The Isle of Babylon
by AlwaysSharp
Summary: AU. As kids and teenagers, the gang find themselves stranded on a deserted island.


---

Justin is the first to recover from the impact of the shock of being dropped off on the island. When you're _abandoned _by the boat that was supposed to take you back home from boarding school for summer vacation, dropped off on a random island and left there, it takes a while for the natural response to kick in.

His reaction isn't what you might expect from an angelic-looking blond boy in Catholic boarding school.

"What the fuck was that?"

The spell of St. James Academy has worn off, and profanity begins to spill from the mouths of the students. Justin is the first to say a word, but immediately following his outburst, everyone begins buzzing at once.

And then a fight breaks out.

For a second, everyone freezes – except for the two girls fighting, of course. But suddenly, it hits them, and it hits them hard: there aren't teachers here.

There aren't _teachers _here.

No authority whatsoever.

The girls drop their hands to their sides almost immediately.

This is big.

No.

This is _huge_.

This has never happened before. Their ages ranging from seven to eighteen, these kids have never – _ever _– been in a world without rules and restrictions. They've never been without authority.

Not once.

Suddenly, fighting seems perverse – childish.

Suddenly, there's a whole lot of appeal behind some other behaviors.

A timid-looking boy with brown hair tugs on the shirt of one of his friends. He murmurs something in the taller boy's ear. Nodding, his friend steps closer to the rest of the crowd and whistles loudly.

Everyone quiets down.

"Um, hi," chirps the boy who whistled. "I just thought, you know, if we're all stuck here, we should probably get to know each other. Can we all sit down in a circle?"

The circle isn't necessary – of course it's not. But it's a constant, drilled into kids' minds, that with a circle comes order. Order and organization is what the island lacks – at least, right now – and the circle could help establish that. Not because of some weird Magic Circle Powers, but because kids are familiar with the concept of staying calm within the confines of a circle.

Slowly, everyone sits.

And the introductions begin.

The fourteen-year-old whistler's name is Emmett, and his friend, the one who suggested that he settle everybody down, is fifteen and his name is Michael. They are best friends, completely inseparable, and are both gay.

Another boy on the island is fifteen and is named Theodore, but goes by Ted. He, like Emmett and Michael, is gay, and hopes that plenty of "adventures" await while stranded on the island.

The next boy to introduce himself is Justin. Twelve years old without much to say about himself, he shrugs and says, "I think I'm gay." Emmett, Michael, Ted and another boy burst out laughing at this declaration.

When Justin turns around, he decides that he is one hundred percent gay. The other boy is _breathtaking_.

"I'm Brian," the guy says. "I'm going to be seventeen in a week. And I wouldn't fuck a girl if my life depended on it, but guys can just start lining up."

Justin wants to know where the line forms. From the way Michael's mouth is hanging ever-so-slightly open, Justin can tell that he's not the only one.

Two boys sitting together introduce themselves next. One is Ben, who is almost eighteen, and appears to be eyeing a certain fifteen-year-old boy on the other side of the circle. His companion, Hunter, is twelve, and eyeing Brian instead. Justin sympathizes.

The next to introduce himself is a seven-year-old boy named Gus. He is here with his babysitter, Lindsay, a sixteen-year-old girl and one of the two who engaged in that fight earlier. As for the other girl, her name is Melanie. She's also sixteen. And much to Brian's dismay and disgust, she is a lesbian.

"We came _this close _to not having anyone on this island attracted to girls," Brian deadpans. "Well, it works for you, I guess, 'cause you wouldn't be getting any otherwise. Maybe you can get Lindsay to go for you."

As it turns out, Brian and Lindsay are friends.

Justin is very, very jealous of that girl, though he does not envy her the anatomical differences.

---

"So, I think we should elect a leader," Emmett declares, evidently proud of himself for having come up with such a genius plan. "It'll save us time arguing over every little thing."

There is a general murmur of assent, which one might say disproves Emmett's theory.

Melanie immediately sits up. "Well, I think I'm an obvious choice."

"Yeah?" snarks Brian. "How's that?"

The girl smiles sweetly. "If you'd like to run against me, Brian, feel free to do so."

"I'm asking," Brian replies through gritted teeth, "for your political ground. What makes you the one we should elect?"

Emmett interrupts. Apparently, he is simply full of good ideas today. "You see those rocks over there?" he asks, pointing to a semicircle of four large boulders. When people respond in the affirmative, he continues, "I think we should hold a debate. Everyone not running for leader can sit on the ground, and the people who are can stand by the rocks. You know, like on TV."

Ted snorts. "It's not just on TV," he points out. "Political debates are, you know, real. Not sitcoms."

Nobody really cares.

"Well, let's go over to the rocks!" Emmett proposes to break the silence.

Grumbling, everybody gets up and moves.

---

As it turns out, Melanie is not the only one interested in running for leader. Brian is a popular candidate as well, as is Ben. This leaves one additional boulder for anyone else who is interested.

"I want to do it," Justin declares.

Eyebrows raise.

"You're a _kid_," Ted sneers.

"You're an _asshole_," Justin retorts, and crosses to the leftover boulder, which just so happens to be next to Brian.

Emmett, who has decided that it is his duty as the gayest of the islanders to control the debate, settles himself comfortably with the other spectators. "If anyone has questions to ask the candidates, please come to me," he chirps. "First off. Can each of you please explain why you should be in charge of the island?"

Ever the well-bred young woman, Melanie takes it upon herself to answer first. "Well," she says in a tone of the utmost professionalism, "Firstly, it's a well-known fact that teenage boys are irresponsible, whereas I am sophomore class valedictorian and as such have stellar grades. That is a clear indication of the fact that I am responsible, and can easily govern an island such as this one. In addition, I hope to be a lawyer when I grow up, and therefore know quite a bit about government and how this island should be run."

"Excuse me," Brian interrupts, smiling lazily, "but I don't see why being a girl and a wannabe-lawyer makes you any more responsible or professional than the rest of us. Besides, just because you want to be a lawyer, you're sixteen. How do we know you know _anything _about government?"

Justin and Ben exchange awestruck looks. Clearly, these are two people who know that they are doing.

"Um," Emmett interrupts chirpily, "guys, what if we talked about what you would _do _as leader instead of why you should _be _leader?"

Brian straddles his boulder provocatively. "I for one would fuck everyone on this island."

Melanie looks scandalized.

"Well – all the guys, anyway," Brian quickly amends himself. "And not only that, but I would thenconsider using _this_." From his shirt pocket, he draws out, illuminated by the sunlight falling directly on it, a –

"You have a _cell phone_?" screeches Melanie. She dives for it, clearly enraged. "And you didn't _use _it?"

Brian shrugs. "Minutes are expensive, you know," he remarks, and slips the phone casually back into his pocket. "Now, back to the debate. If I'm elected – _then _I'll call."

Justin's smile is about the size of a football field. "I think we all know who we're voting for."

"Hands up for Brian," Emmett dictates gleefully.

Every hand on the island goes up.

"Wait," Ben interrupts. "Who says there's going to be service?"

There is a moment's pause.

"He's already been elected," Justin rushes out, like this is his battle to fight.

Brian raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. In the silence that follows, he flips open his cell phone and dials a number.

Pause.

"Funny," Melanie remarks when Brian grimaces and places the phone back in his pocket. "He doesn't seem surprised."

"But I've been elected," Brian reminds her.

A look of total disgust and loathing forms on Melanie's face, and for a moment, Brian wonders if she is about to engage in some bizarre lesbionic form of violence. Before any such thing can occur, Justin steps in front of Brian. He smiles sweetly at Melanie, betraying no sign of malice or deceit whatsoever, and begins to diplomatically assuage her anger. "Listen, maybe it's for the best that he's elected," he murmurs in a tone loud enough for only Melanie and Brian to hear. "That way, he'll mess up, and you can take over. In fact, he probably won't even last a day. Look at him. He's probably never handled responsibility in his life! You'd be a great leader, but everyone has to figure that out first. If that means we have to let him be in charge for a few hours, I say let him."

Melanie sizes the kid up for a moment. "Who are you?" she asks skeptically, like she's wondering if Justin is really a fairy or something (no comments) with a magical ability to persuade anyone of anything. In a completely, thoroughly nonsexual way, of course.

"Justin Taylor, and yeah, I've been on the debate team since I was eight." He smiles, twirling a strand of long blond hair around his finger. "So, what do you think?"

The girl heaves a dramatic sigh. "Fine," she grumbles. "But you'd better be right. And if he _doesn't _get impeached within a day," she hisses warningly in Justin's ear, "I'll _make _him get impeached. And you'll help me. Got that?"

Justin's eyes flash. "Sure," he replies sweetly, and walks away.

Impressed, Brian follows him for a moment, unsure whether he is more interested in the boy's powers of persuasion or his ass.

---

"Thanks."

Justin looks up from the sand, where he is sitting comfortably against a tree, his legs stretched out in front of him.

"What, for what I said to Melanie? Don't mention it."

Brian shrugs. "Whatever. I was just wondering if you wanted a position on my fascist government of one."

The younger boy raises his eyebrows. "You want _my _help? I'm sure you can handle it on your own," he points out.

"Sure, but I can't talk like that. The way you talked to Melanie. I mean, I can, but not in this instance. You seem so innocent, those fuckers'll believe every word that comes out of your mouth."

"The key word being 'seem,'" Justin informs him. "If they only knew the things this thirteen-year-old has done."

Brian laughs. "I'm sure I wouldn't mind hearing about them…"

"Nonsexual things, I mean," Justin amends himself quickly. "I mean… I've never…"

"Don't worry, you will."

Justin pauses and looks up. "Uh… you don't mean…"

"Why not? I'm only four years older than you." Brian's face is dead serious. For a moment, Justin even believes him, until he sees the barest hint of a smile cracking on the older boy's face.

"You asshole," Justin whines, swatting playfully at Brian's ankles – the only part of the other boy that he can reach from his position on the ground. "I believed you for a second!"

Brian grins. "Come on. That'd be gross."

"Not for me," Justin retorts.

At about the same time, each boy decides that he likes the other one.

---

"I," Brian declares, standing on top of a pile of rocks built by him and the other boys, "am now King Brian."

Lindsay, from below, grins at him. "Don't you mean queen?" she teases.

As per usual, Brian takes only a second to formulate a sarcastic remark. "Right," he concedes. "The only king we have around here is Muncher Melanie."

His best friend sighs and takes a few steps further up the rock pile. "There's something I should tell you," she says slowly.

"Yeah?"

Lindsay twirls a strand of long blond hair around her finger. "I think… well, I'm almost positive, actually… that I'm a lesbian."

Brian smirks. "You're just realizing this now?"

"You mean you _knew_?"

"Fags have gaydar, you know," he replies.

She can't believe this. "I can't believe this," Lindsay says. "Well… I kind of have this crush."

"On Muncher Melanie," Brian drawls.

"Yes."

Brian swings his backpack over his shoulder and digs out a dildo. "Knock yourself out," he says, tossing it to her, and he walks away.

---

Now, of course, everyone wants dildos from Brian. But he's not giving them out so liberally. Instead, he has decided to set up some rules – since he's in charge of the island, after all.

"Okay," he says. "Today's Wednesday. Every Saturday, we have debates. We can talk about changing policy and I'll listen to everyone's ideas, but in the end, I'm the one who decides. None of this democracy bullshit."

"That sounds like _Animal Farm_," volunteers Ted.

Brian is impressed by the boy's knowledge.

"Yes, it does. Great. Now, about setting up committees."

"Committees?" echoes Melanie from the back. She's obviously annoyed that Brian maintain his position as the leader for so long.

Brian nods. "Yes. For the first committee, we need people in charge of getting us food. That means fishing and hunting. Also, they'll be in charge of getting things like berries and fruits to keep things balanced and _exciting_." He flashes a sarcastic smile. "Three people would be ideal. Volunteers?"

At first, nobody responds. "I don't want to have to draft you," Brian threatens. "You." He points to Ben. "You're strong. Probably fast, right? Why can't you do it?"

"I won't kill anything," Ben replies stoutly. "No way."

As though just realizing now that this job entails killing, Hunter springs up. "I'll do it!" he exclaims.

His name suits the position.

"Fine," says Brian huffily. "Anyone else?"

Swiftly, Melanie raises her hand. "Before you give me any shit about being a girl," she says quickly, "I can run with the best of them, and I'm fucking strong. And I'm a dyke, so that makes me capable, as far as I'm concerned."

Brian whistles. "Well, then. Go ahead. Hunter, Melanie… anyone else?"

"Emmett's really strong," Michael pipes up.

The boy in question blushes. "No, I'm not," he murmurs. But it's clear that he is.

"Stand up," Brian orders. When the younger boy complies, Brian inquires, "How old are you?"

"Fourteen," Emmett replies. His voice is effeminate, but from what Brian can see of his muscles, his body is definitely not.

Hoping for a very particular answer, Brian asks, "You don't have anything against killing, do you?"

Emmett isn't sure, but clearly wants to do well by the other islanders. "Well… I don't like the sight of blood. I get squeamish. But I can deal with it. And I'm pretty sure I'd be good for this position – better than most of the others. So I think I can just… suck it up and handle it."

"Good answer," Brian says. "Well, that's that. Emmett, Melanie, and Hunter. Melanie, you're the oldest, so you be in charge of those fuckers." He says it not only because Melanie is the oldest and the only girl of the three, but also because it's clear that she is the smartest and can probably keep a level head better than Emmett or Hunter any day.

Melanie leans smugly against a tree, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles.

"Next," says Brian, "we need two people who can be in charge of shelter and tending a campfire and all that stuff – basically, the committee in charge of keeping things in order. Making this place comfortable. I figure I may as well just pick you out – Ted and Lindsay. You guys okay with that?"

The two teenagers nod.

"Well, that leaves me, Michael, Ben, Justin and – what's your name again?" he asks the little boy.

"Gus," whispers the child.

Brian nods. "Right. Gus. Well, Michael and Ben, you handle babysitting," he says with a laugh, "and Justin, you can be my co-leader. Okay?"

The blond boy beams. "Sure," he says with a smile.

Michael, who is clearly envious of Justin, looks less than thrilled.

---

While Emmett, Melanie and Hunter run around trying to get dinner together and Ted and Lindsay work on making a fire, Ben and Michael get to talking.

"So… you said you're fifteen, right?" Ben asks, leaning against a tree beside Michael while Gus scampers around, playing with grass and flowers. That kid is definitely going to turn out to be as gay as them come.

Michael nods. "Yeah. And you're eighteen."

"Almost," Ben corrects him.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes. Then comes Ben's casual "So, are you interested in anyone here?"

Michael is slow in answering him. "Well… there are a couple people I think are really hot," he confesses.

"Yeah? Like who?"

"I can't tell you, or I'd have to kill you," Michael informs him pleasantly. "How 'bout you? You interested in anyone?"

Ben arches an eyebrow suggestively.

In disbelief, Michael manages to get out, "You mean…?"

"You _are _attractive, Michael," Ben informs him bluntly.

Michael looks away.

"No, I mean it," Ben insists. "You _are_." He reaches out and takes Michael's face in his hands, cupping the younger boy's cheeks.

"Whatever," Michael mutters, trying to pass it off as insignificant and carefree.

Ben sighs and lets go of Michael's face, letting his hands drop limply into his lap. "So," he says loudly, seeing the smoking fire not far from them. Shadows – most likely Emmett, Melanie, and Hunter – are bent over it, and Ben can assume that they are making dinner. "Should we go get Gus?"

---

While Melanie, Emmett, and Hunter cook dinner, Ted and Lindsay take it upon themselves to see what they can do about establishing a dining area.

"We should really get a table set up," Ted remarks as he and Lindsay set up a circle of logs.

Lindsay nods, hoisting a log over to the circle and placing it down on the ground. "Eight so far," she murmurs. "We need two more." To Ted, she says, "Yeah. Maybe we could find some way of cutting down trees to make one." Unspoken is "if we're here long enough." Because of course, despite the limitless possibilities of entertainment on this island, as well as the incredible fact that there is no authority, neither Lindsay nor the other islanders _really _want to be here for the rest of their lives.

Ted lays another log down in the circle. "Yeah. In the meantime, I guess people can just eat off their laps."

"But we don't have plates or anything," Lindsay says, suddenly worried.

"Ah," says Ted, "but we _do_."

It's easy for them to forget why they're even _on_ the island, but then again, it isn't so easy. Not really. Since the boat that dropped them all off here was intended to take them back to their homes for summer vacation, they all have their belongings from school – clothing, sheets and blankets, pillows, things like that.

Back in St. James, there is a project every spring to design a plate – basically, they give the kids cheap plates and some dry-erase markers and tell them to go for it. Then the teachers do something involving an oven to keep the ink sticking on the plate – nobody's quite sure what, exactly.

And every single kid on the island should have one in his or her bag.

"Hey, let's kill two birds with one stone," Lindsay proposes. "We'll get everyone's duffels and put them by the logs – that way there's no debacle over seating arrangements, _and _the plates are within reach."

Ted grins in agreement with her idea. "Three birds, actually. This way, we have something comfortable to sit on."

Lindsay smiles and pats her friend on the shoulder. "I like the way you think," she tells him, and the two of them set off to go retrieve the duffel bags.

---

By the time the other islanders arrive at the fire pit, which is where dinner is to be held, there is a plain white sheet spread across the eating area, which is held in its place on the ground by duffle bags stationed on top of it at even intervals. A single log is rolled on its side in front of each individual duffle bag. Each log may either serve as either a footrest (assuming that the person chooses to sit on the duffle bag) or as the seat itself.

As people begin to sit down, each at his or her own bag, Lindsay and Ted walk around, handing out the plates they fished out from each duffel bag. (While some might call this an invasion of privacy, Lindsay and Ted label it as mere convenience.) On each plate is fish and berries, and Ted also hands out water bottles, which he also retrieved from the duffel bags. These are filled with water from the lake, which Justin, in all his geekish glory, ascertained to be fresh water rather than salty, and therefore, if not one hundred percent _clean_, at least safe.

Once everyone has been served, Ted and Lindsay hand out what appear to be cloth napkins, but which are, in actuality, snipped-off portions of a spare bedsheet they found in someone's bag. There are no forks or knives, but at this point, cleanliness does not appear to be a great concern. The teenagers (and Gus) simply dig into their food, Ben included, although he admits to being a vegetarian. Emergency situations must not apply.

While everyone is eating, Lindsay takes a sip from her water bottle before calling everyone to attention. "Guys?" she says, quieting everyone down immediately. "First off, Ted and I would personally like to thank Emmett, Hunter, and Melanie for the fantastic meal, and I think all of you agree. Right?"

There is a general murmur of assent.

"Good. And also, while we're eating, there's one other issue I'd like to address. Since we're going to be here for some time – who knows how long? – it might be wise for us to start doing things that'll help make this island a home for us, if only temporarily. And one way we can do that is by giving this place a name."

Ah. A name for the island. Clever, Lindsay.

"Any ideas?" she presses.

Michael the comic book addict is the first to throw his hat in the ring. "How about Astroland?" he asks hopefully. His favorite superhero, Captain Astro, is the individual behind this idea.

Nobody is impressed. People can hear crickets chirping in the background.

"What about Thumpa-Thumpa?" Emmett suggests cheerfully. "Since we're all gay. And the _thumpa-thumpa _is what I call the gay pulse. Oooh! Or _Pulse_!"

"It doesn't sound like a _place_," Michael tells him delicately, like his idea was _so _much better.

"Gayopolis," Justin suggests, provoking a smile from the comic book addict who recognizes the popular suffix in city names in comic books.

Brian removes his hands from his food and balances his plate on his lap. "Babylon," he says bluntly, matter-of-factly. As though there were no other name to possibly choose from.

Babylon.

_Babylon_.

"I like it," Emmett says quickly, grinning impishly.

Michael nods. "Me too."

For whatever reason, Brian finds himself looking to Justin. The blonde beams, his blue eyes flashing warmly, and he says, in a tone of indisputable honestly, "I love it."


End file.
